Before the Reaping- The Dark Days
by tarwaa
Summary: The dark days. The battle is lost. A young rebel is prepared to surrender.


_Hi, so this is my first fanfic on this site. I wrote it for a competition but I didn't win, so I decided to post it here and see what people thought of it! Please review!_

_**summary: The dark days. The battle is lost. A young rebel prepares to surrender.**_

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**_Before the Reaping- The Dark Days_**

Bodies of the dead and nearly-dead litter the dark streets. Heavy rain falls in torrents. A murky stream of ash and blood runs through the cobbled streets. The deafening cries of battle and the gunshots have died down. This is where their rebellion has led them. Failure and death.

They started out with such determination. The citizens of the thirteen districts, finally tired of starving while those in the Capital had more than enough, joined together and rebelled. The rebels had some initial success, gaining control of Districts Eight, Eleven and Thirteen, before laying siege to the Capital. However, the rebels hadn't anticipated that the Capital would create such fearsome mutations, such as tracker jackers- solid gold wasps whose stings would bring on powerful hallucinations, and often death. Now, merely a month later, the uprising is almost over, and order will soon be restored in the Capital.

In what was once the busy centre of the Capital, a young man, olive-skinned face covered with deep gashes and scars, limps up a semi-collapsed staircase. His grimy hand reaches up and pushes a mess of black hair, smeared with dirt and blood away from his sky-blue eyes. The heavy rain plasters his hair to his skull and makes him shiver uncontrollably. At the top of the stairs, he is confronted by an older man, whose raven-black hair is greying slightly. His eyes, which are cold and grey, watch every movement the young man makes towards him.

The young rebel leader from District 12 knows what he must do. The bombing of district 13 just days earlier had left the rebels at a disadvantage. The district had been their main provider of weapons, having been the place where nuclear weapons were made for the Capital, before the war. The rebels no longer had a reliable supply of weapons.

The thick smoke still rising from the smouldering district is visible even here in the Capital itself. The young man raises his head, and blue orbs meet grey orbs. "We surrender", he rasps, deep voice hoarse from overuse. The raven haired man's thin lips slowly curl into a malicious smile. He gives a curt nod and the young man's world moves in slow motion. The next thing he registers is being dragged by two strong men to his death. He stands before seven members of a firing squad, and can't hold back a smile when he notices that even in the heat of battle, the seven Capital men wear flamboyant makeup that remains immaculate. The captain bounces around, bright yellow wig slightly askew, and he gives the order in a high-pitched, over-the-top Capital accent. "Take aim. Fire!" His last thoughts before a bullet penetrates his skull are of his wife, Rosanna, whose grey eyes are soft and kind, and of his unborn son, who will now be doomed to forever work in the mines of District 12. Then the bullet comes, and everything goes black.

74 years later, and the Dark Days have almost been forgotten. But the districts are still being punished. Every year, two children from each district must fight to the death in an arena, for the sadistic pleasure of the Capital citizens.

The morning before the reaping of the 74th Annual Hunger games, a young man lies in a field beyond his district's boundary. The sun feels hot on his olive-skinned face. He closes his grey eyes and runs a hand through his messy black hair, so similar to his grandfather's. "Gale," he hears a voice say from behind him. He turns around to see a 16-year-old girl, a bow slung carelessly over her shoulder. With her olive skin and dark hair – qualities common to those living in the Seam- they could be related. "Hey Catnip," he smiles, he is genuinely happy to see her. The hot-tempered boy can't say that about many people. She gives a half- smile in return as he rolls to his feet. He picks up his own bow and follows his best friend into the woods.

The two spend all day hunting. Though Gale is no match for Katniss with a bow and arrow, he makes up for it with his knowledge of snares. As dusk is falling, they leave the woods and head towards District 12's Hob, laden down with game. They sell a large quantity to Greasy Sae, who uses it for soup. Gale hitches his now almost empty game bag further up on his broad shoulder, and he bids farewell to Katniss.

Gale exits the Hob, not noticing the small bronze plaque, covered in a fine layer of coal dust that reads, _Gale Hawthorne Sr. – leader of rebellion. R.I.P._

*_end__*_


End file.
